Beyond Here
by charleys
Summary: Not about Twilight but influenced by it.
1. Chapter 1

**Thursday, December 23****rd**** (16 years ago)**

I wasn't born in a hospital. Mum had me in the middle of the night, on the side of a motorway. Apparently it was all very dramatic and quick, with no time to call an ambulance. I was two days late, but once I finally decided it was time to come out, I didn't hang around.

My parents named me Ruby. It wasn't because they thought I was precious, like a gem, but because they were being ironic. I was born with jaundice, and came out the colour of Homer Simpson. Now my face always seems to be red. Whenever I'm hot, cold or embarrassed, it turns the colour of a fire engine.

I don't remember much about my childhood, or at least nothing in great detail. Some people remember loads of stuff, which makes me jealous. I don't remember anything before we moved to Canvey Island, and my Dad's just a hazy shadow now.

He left when I was four, moved to America with his business partner who he'd knocked up. Mum and I never hear from him any more. Maybe one day I'll try to find him, but right now I'm not bothered.

Despite my dad leaving, and the stupid colour my face turns, my life was pretty good. I had everything planned out; I was going to be happy and successful. Firstly, I was going to take a Criminology degree, and then get a job in a prison, helping people sort out their lives. I was going to travel the world, I was going to get married, and I was going to have three children who would take care of me when I got old.

But one early spring day, my life and plan were blown apart.

**Sunday, March 1st 10am (Now)**

I should have been getting ready, but I was still in bed. My dress hung ready on the wardrobe door. Mum had snuck in last night to iron it for me. There was a stain on the arm from when I had last worn it, but she didn't think anyone would notice. The dress was black.

In three hours the funeral was due to start. Nearly everyone from our year would be there. Ben's family had said that everyone was welcome, but I wondered if they were aware just how many people he knew.

Earlier that morning, Tina had called me, asking if I wanted a ride with her. It was like we were planning a trip to the cinema. I told her Mum was going to take me, but I didn't say why. The reason was because even though I'm sixteen, practically an adult, I'd never wanted my mum more than I did right then. I guess I was hoping that she could make it all better somehow – give me one of those big hugs that erase everything.

But that's only part of the reason I didn't want a lift. The other was that I wasn't certain I could go through with it. I didn't think I was strong enough to sit on those cold wooden pews, looking at the cold wooden box, which trapped within it the person that I loved.

No, I couldn't do that. I was going to stay in bed, burrowed beneath my duvet until it all went away.

**10.10am **

Mum came into my room and opened the curtains. The light hurt my eyes and I grumbled. Ignoring my complaints, she handed me a mug of tea. It tasted sweet, like she'd heaped half the sugar jar into it. Usually I avoid sugar – goes straight to my stomach and forms a big roll of flesh. But that day I drank it all; even the grains in the bottom which hadn't dissolved properly.

Apparently the sugar would help my nerves. I wasn't shaking so much any more, but I still couldn't bring myself to eat the toast that she'd left. My first and only bite had tasted of plastic.

I told Mum I didn't want to go. She gave me a speech about how I'd regret not saying goodbye. I wouldn't, because I didn't want to say goodbye yet. If I went to Ben's funeral, it would be like accepting that he was really gone. Denial was far better than that, if a little unhealthy.

Maybe I didn't have a right to be that upset, though. I mean, it's not like we were all that close. I loved him, but I was pretty sure it was unrequited. I only sat next to him in maths, because our surnames both started with a T. We chatted a lot, but we weren't best friends. I wouldn't have gone up to him at lunch, or invited him to the cinema with me and Tina.

But none of that changed the fact that I _was_ in love with him. And sometimes it sucked, because I wanted to tell him, and every night I literally dreamt of him saying it back. Sometimes I'd open my mouth to tell him, and the words would form in my head but then fail to materialise. It was torture, but it was also the best feeling in the world.

It made no sense, but I was happy just being in love without him knowing it. And I'd have carried on like that for the rest of my life, perfectly content, if he hadn't been taken away from me; if somebody hadn't killed him.

**4pm**

My trembling fingers clutched the red balloon. Tina had bought it back for me from the funeral. Hundreds of them had been released outside the church, all different colours and full of helium. They'd soared into the sky, as a celebration of Ben's life.

I'd been trying to let go of my balloon for ten minutes, but I wasn't getting anywhere. I didn't know why it was so hard, but my hand just wouldn't let go.

Tina hadn't stayed long after giving it to me. Her mum was waiting in the car, to take her to the park. There, Ben's friends had organised their own sort of wake. Tina tried convincing me to come, but I wasn't really in the mood to sit on a swing and drink WKDs, while swapping stories about Ben. To start with, I didn't really have any to tell. Sleep was defiantly my best option.

The sky had turned a dark grey, filled with moisture and threatening to soak me with its tears. With a huge amount of effort, even more than it had taken me to get out of bed, I let the silver string slip through my fingers.

Gently, the balloon floated upwards. I watched as it gained altitude, getting further and further away from me. The red upside down teardrop stood out against the dull background. A few seconds later it was gone.

I stood there until rain struck my cheek, and I started to shiver.

**11pm**

It felt like somebody else was in the room, watching me.

I looked around, even checked inside my wardrobe, underneath my bed, but there was no one. The only explanation was that I'd officially gone mad. Grief can do that to a person, or so I've heard.

But the strangest thing was, I didn't mind feeling like someone else was with me. In fact, it felt sort of comforting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wednesday, September 3****rd**** 1pm (6 months ago)**

'Do you know the answer to question three?' Ben whispered to me.

I glanced up, amazed that he had just spoken. I'd been prepared for a year of awkward silence between us. Somebody like him could never be seen talking to somebody like me. He had a reputation, he was popular; his friends all smoked and played rugby, and his girlfriend had long straight hair and fully developed breasts (I'm talking actual watermelon size).

I, on the other hand, was nothing like that. My hair couldn't have looked any worse if I'd stuck a bowl on it and cut around, and my chest was flatter than Kate Moss's. In the scheme of secondary school life, I was barely a blip on Ben's radar.

It took a few seconds for me to build up enough courage to reply. Instantly, my hands began to sweat. I didn't want to say anything that would make me sound stupid, but statistically, it was an almost certainty.

I looked down at my workbook. The answer was scrawled down in pencil, barely legible but unarguably right.

'568,' I whispered back, too afraid to say anything else.

He smiled, looking straight at me. I turned away sharply, my face now a tomato. It was ridiculous; acting like I was five years old and had just been captured in a game of kiss chase. All he'd done was ask me the answer to a question, but my mind was running away, thinking about his smile, about his lips and body pressing down on mine…

_These are not suitable thoughts for maths class_, I told myself silently.

It was half an hour before we spoke again. Mr Barns came over to our desk with the chewing gum jar, and shoved it under Ben's nose. The smell of old gum and spit wafted out from the open top, making me want to gag.

'Spit,' he instructed Ben, who did as he was told.

With the lid screwed back on, and the jar returned to pride of place on top of the filing cabinet, Ben turned to me.

'Sorry, that thing's so disgusting.'

His voice triggered some sort of paralysis in me. Words got jumbled in my head, and my voice box no longer worked. I was mortifyingly aware of the zombie look on my face, like my brain had suddenly packed up. I needed to smile, say something, or do anything that showed I was still alive. It had been many seconds since I had last taken a breath.

'Apparently the layer at the bottom is four years old,' I said.

As soon as I'd spoken, I internally scolded myself. What a stupid thing to say. Why would he care about how old the bottom layer of gum is? Why would _anybody_ care about that? Even_ I_ didn't find it interesting or useful, but yet for some reason I'd felt compelled to pass the information on.

Ben laughed, but not in a horrible or mocking way. It's hard to describe, but it was almost as if he thought my verbal spasm was cute. It really wasn't.

When the bell rang and Ben stood up, I felt a pang in my stomach. For a whole hour he'd been just a few inches away from me, and now he was going to leave. It felt like our desk had been encased in its own little bubble, but the bell had popped it. We were separate again now.

Before I managed to cram everything into my bag, Ben was already walking away from the desk. I watched him go, striding away in black trainers which he was always being told off for wearing.

He was nearly at the door when he turned around and smiled at me again.

'See you tomorrow Ruby.'

'Yeah, tomorrow,' I replied, managing to both talk and smile (progress).

That was the moment I fell in love.

**Monday, March 2****nd**** 8am (Now)**

There was an hour before school started, and I didn't want to go. Well, I don't think I've ever actually _wanted_ to go into school, but that day I really, really didn't. Mum said it would do me good to get out of the house though. Apparently just standing in the garden doesn't count.

I was using my spoon to sculpt my cold porridge into a triangle when I heard shouting coming from outside my window. Curiosity dragged me out of bed, and I twitched my curtains open a little and peered out.

Standing outside the house opposite was Mrs James. She was in a fluffy pink robe, bare footed and with hair like Diana Ross's. It wasn't a pretty sight if I'm honest.

Mr James was standing next to the car in his underpants, and then suddenly something flew through the air and struck him on the head. It took me a while to work out that the item had been a bunch of keys.

'Drive off and don't come back this time!' shouted Mrs James.

I drew the curtains closed and returned to my breakfast sculpture. Mr James was a serial adulterer, and as such was always getting thrown out of his home. Usually, he'd be gone for a few days, then I'd see his car back in the driveway, and they'd be gardening together a few days later.

_Love is very weird_, I thought.

**12pm**

I survived the first half of school, but it was pretty horrible. Everyone was still really upset over the funeral, and it was all they could talk about. As they spoke, I kept picturing what it must have been like; the coffin, the old vicar who kept spitting, Ben's family. The worst was when I pictured Ben himself, all pale and still.

There was a speech in assembly about how tragic it was, but how we all had to find a way to adjust and move on. _Easy for you to say, you didn't know him_, I thought. To help, the school was providing grief counselling on Wednesdays. I didn't know whether to go or not. People say that things always seem better if you talk about them, but no amount of words was going to make me feel okay again.

Art was good, because for an hour I got to lose myself in it. Part of my coursework was an oil painting of a plain in Africa. I was copying it from a photo my parents took on their honeymoon. It looked beautiful, sunny, and in the background you could see a lioness and her cubs. My painting wasn't exactly of Picasso standard, but I was pretty proud of it nonetheless.

The bell rang for lunch just as I had finished cleaning my paintbrush. I met Tina in the cafeteria, along with the usual crowd. They were sitting at a table near the window, picking at undercooked jacket potatoes (part of the school's new healthy eating plan, I blame Jamie Oliver).

'You look like death,' Paul said to me.

I shrugged off my bag and coat. 'Thanks.'

Paul was Tina's boyfriend. They'd been going out for two months, after getting drunk and doing something unmentionable at a house party. They were pretty loved up, which was sweet, but sickening.

'How are you feeling today?' asked Tina.

'Fine,' I replied, not wanting to go into it.

'I can't believe you never told him how you felt, especially after he broke up with JAmy I'd have been right in there, if I was gay, or he was a girl,' said Paul.

At first I wanted to snap and say that it wasn't that simple, but then I smiled. The way Paul had said it was kind of funny. At least I still had some slight sense of humour – kind of.

Mum had made me two cheese and red onion sandwiches, a combination Tina thought very strange, but it was my favourite. I pulled one apart and poked the rings of onion with my finger. I didn't want to eat anything.

'I wonder what they're going to do with his ashes,' said Paul.

Tina kicked him under the table, but I shrugged, as if to say that I didn't mind them talking about it. School's a bad place to be when you're trying to avoid gossip, which is what Ben and his death had become.

'I don't know, scatter them somewhere I guess. Where was his favourite place?' asked Tina.

This question was directed at me. I thought for a while, but I didn't know. I'd never asked him. There were so many questions I'd wanted to voice by hadn't.

'Just before Christmas, he got a rescue dog called Bono-' I began

Tina interrupted me. 'Bono? As in the guy from U2?'

I nodded. 'Yes, Bono. Anyway, Ben said he loved taking him out for walks on the beach. I think he'd like to be scattered there.'

'Maybe they'll keep him on the windowsill,' said Paul.

This time, I kicked him.

**2pm**

I couldn't face going to maths. Last week had been bad enough; sitting there in a daze, holding my pencil but making no effort to move it. I just stared at the empty seat next to me, thinking about Ben.

At least I tried to go, though. I managed to walk half way to Maths Block before my heart started pounding so fast I thought I was dying. I knew that as soon as I saw the classroom, I'd collapse in floods of tears. Everyone would think I was some sort of insane freak, because only Tina knew that I was in love with Ben. Nobody else knew we even spoke, or how it felt like my heart had shrivelled up and died with him. If anyone was to ultrasound it, all they'd find was a prune.

I'd never bunked off a lesson before, so I wasn't sure where to go. The headmaster's office looked out towards the school's only gate, which made escaping way a problem. I thought about jumping up onto one of the big bins and climbing over the fence, but I wasn't sure how I'd get down.

In the end, I decided to hide in the bathroom. It wasn't the most original idea, but I didn't have enough time to think of another one. It was pretty boring, just sitting there on the lid of a toilet. I tried reading a book, but couldn't get past the second line. I couldn't absorb any of the words, which made me frustrated.

With about twenty minutes to go until the bell, I heard the bathroom door squeak open. I lifted my legs off the floor, in case it was a teacher, but the toilet lid made a noise as I shifted my weight.

'Ruby, are you in there?' somebody asked.

It was a man, the headmaster, by the sound of it.

_Busted_.

I unlocked the door, not caring about being caught, or the trouble I would probably get in.

'I've been looking for you. Mr Barns radioed me to say you hadn't shown up for class.'

Technically it wasn't a question, which meant that I didn't have to respond. I just stared at the floor tiles, waiting for my planner to be taken, and a week's worth of detentions to be added to it. However, the headmaster didn't hold out his hand for it, nor did he say anything else. He just stood there, looking at me with concern.

It felt so uncomfortable that I eventually decided to speak. 'I'm sorry, I just couldn't face going today.'

'Any reason?'

'It's just… Ben.'

The headmaster nodded, as if he was just realising something. 'You were going out?'

His question startled me, and I wasn't sure how he'd jumped to such a conclusion. Was my broken heart really so obvious?

'No. It's complicated,' I said.

**7pm**

I lay in the bath, a foot of bubbles floating upon the surface. The water was practically scalding, and I could see the steam rising up from it, condensing on the cool glass window and mirror. My skin was bright pink, and it was pretty uncomfortable instead of being relaxing, but I was determined to stay in there as long as possible. I wanted to wash the day off my skin. At least I'd avoided detention, but only because I'd agreed to see the counsellor on Wednesday. I wasn't looking forward to it.

**10.30pm**

Between getting out of my bath, and turning my light off for bed, I had no sense of time. I'd just been lying on my bed, staring at my ceiling for hours. I'd not even been aware that I was doing it. I was shocked when I finally tuned back to reality, to find that I hadn't moved in over two hours; it could have been five minutes.

All things considered, my day could have been worse. As I lay in the dark, I wasn't worried about going to school the next day. It would be pretty much the same thing, apart from actually having to go to maths. But I wasn't excited about any of it either. It was strange, like all the feeling inside me had been wiped out.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt like somebody was watching me again. Perhaps it was just because of how tired I was, but at one point I even felt like somebody was sitting on my bed. There was a weight at the end, but I didn't open my eyes to look. I didn't want the feeling to go.


End file.
